


vicious things

by circleofplanets



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Cheating, Infidelity, M/M, Morally Black Tom Riddle, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Older Tom Riddle, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Harry Potter, Possessive Tom Riddle, Public Sex, Romance, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Soft Harry Potter, Young Harry Potter, cocktail of flashbacks & emotions, harry cheats with tom, i mean he has no moral compass, tom soft for harry, when i say morally black
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:14:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26785735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circleofplanets/pseuds/circleofplanets
Summary: Harry is finally in a committed relationship. Harry is going to get married. Harry is content.But when a chance encounter reveals his future father-in-law to be his ex-lover, Tom Marvolo Riddle, he is left scrambling to reassemble the pieces of his new life that no longer seem to fit.It doesn't help that Tom is intent on playing his own game of hedonism, seducing Harry at every turn to participate and shed his ill-fitting sheep skin.How low can Harry go, when his conscience keeps dropping the bar every time he gives in?
Relationships: Harry Potter/OC(slight), Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, past Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 70
Kudos: 340
Collections: Harry Potter





	1. Chapter 1

_S_ _o, come to me, my love_  
_I'll tap into your strength and drain it dry_  
_Can never have enough_  
_For you I'd burn the length and breadth of sky_

_My Medea_ **Vienna Teng**

The satin sheets rustled as a raven head peeked out from it. A somber silence had descended in the room upon his request. He slowly pulled away his hands from where they were resting on pale calfs and lifted himself from the bed. 

The sheets fell away to reveal a lithe figure, a feast to the senses with coiled grace and entrenched sensuality. The frown that slightly marred the features was ill-suited for a face that only deserved bored indifference, obtained when you had fate offering you more than most wanted. 

“What’s wrong? Don’t you want me to meet him?” Harry whispered softly, tempering his tone to hide the vain anger that had pulsed at being denied. 

Adrian lifted his arms and waved them in a ‘come hither gesture’ with a placating smile. Harry immediately folded himself into those arms and looked up at him. 

Harry had met Adrian C. Davis more than a month ago on a blind date set up by one of his friends. They had gotten along handsomely and things had escalated until they got engaged last week. It still felt surreal to Harry, diving into a committed relationship. It had been something he had wanted for so long. 

"Do you think he wouldn't approve of me?”

"I don't care about his approval," came the instant reply. Harry knew it to be a lie, having witnessed the nervous wreck Adrian became whenever his father called him. 

"It's just that...," Adrian ran a frustrated hand through his ash-blonde hair and continued. "We do not have a good relationship. He had been more of a stranger than a father to me in my childhood. He had done the bare minimum expected from a father." 

"He wasn't a deadbeat dad but he also wasn't much better than them.”

Harry ran a comforting hand across his fiancé’s cheek and smiled when Adrian leaned into it. "You once told me that your parents had you when they were teenagers. Do you think he is still stuck in that mentality of having you too soon?" 

He laid a deterring hand on Adrian's chest when he started to take offence and urged him to ponder over what he had said. Harry could see the emotions flash across his face, from annoyance to impassiveness to reluctant understanding. 

"You think he has changed maybe?”

Harry could hear the small plead for hope and didn't know if he should fan the flames or let it be. Even from the breadcrumbs he could see that Thomas Davis was not a warm man and strengthening his relationship with his son was probably the last thing on his mind. 

But there was this morbid desire to meet Adrian's father, something he couldn't rationalise. It had been an inextricable demon hanging over his shoulder ever since he had overheard the patriarch's voice one day. 

"Well, he has been initiating the calls these past few months, hasn't he?" At the hesitant answering nod, Harry continued,"This might be his way of taking baby steps towards having a better relationship with you.”

When he saw the visceral impact his words had on Adrian, Harry felt guilty. He had promised himself years ago that he would never try to manipulate the person he was committed to. Would leave behind the attributes that destabilise the foundation of a healthy relationship. 

But this was hardly that serious? He just wanted to meet Adrian's father and cement their engagement. If it sated his curiosity, that was just an addition and not the main focus. 

Adrian still looked undecided, hope warring with decade-old knowledge of his father's indifference. Harry stared and then gave him the final push. 

"We don't have to stay long. Maybe meet for two hours and have his blessings." 

The suggestion did the trick and Adrian gave a tremulous smile in assent. Harry felt the wail of an _old, familiar satisfaction_ and squashed it. 

"Now why don't we continue our earlier activity? I can put my mouth to better use." Harry gave a seductive smile with the cliche line. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction when he saw Adrian become instantly aroused and soon lowered himself between those pale thighs again.

Later that night, all Harry could think was how _easy_ Adrian was. How _easy_ their marriage would be. How _boring_ too. The first seeds of doubt were slowly taking root. 

**❊•❊**

Passing through the ivory security gates, Harry stared wide-eyed at the parallel rows of luxurious houses on Lettermen Street. Freshly-mowed lawns, pristine paint-coats, opulent architecture.

Harry felt both intrigue and disgust in equal measure, the dichotomy faced by anyone who lived from hand to mouth growing up. The well of fortune was wasted on the unworthy. 

"I really can't imagine you growing up here," Harry commented without thinking. He instantly whipped his head at Adrian to mitigate any offence but Adrian had a small smile. 

"That's because I didn't. My father bought a house here almost five or six years ago. Moreover, I stayed with my father only on the weekends so the snobbery didn't rub off on me," Adrian explained with a teasing smirk. 

Harry gave a full-throttled laugh at that, not embarrassed in the least.

Soon they were pulling into the drive-way of a sleek house with a residential post-modern architecture. Harry wolf-whistled after slamming the car door shut and raised both his eyebrows in a mocking manner, as if saying _‘You kidding me?’_. Adrian gave a chuckle as he walked forward and extended an arm to wrap around Harry's waist.

As they walked up the cobblestone pathway, Harry felt a sense of foreboding. It was instinctual and turned out to be for good reason. One look at the surname engraved on the entry door and Harry felt his stomach bottom out. "A-adrian, I think we are at the wrong house. It doesn't say Davis.”

The green-eyed male could feel the tremors waiting to overrun him as his anxiety heightened. Adrian flashed him a puzzled smile which soon morphed into an embarrassed chuckle. He scratched his head and spoke," Ah, actually I took my mother's family name instead of my father's. She is Caroline C. Davis." 

"My father is Tom Marvolo Riddle." 

The words left Harry numb with shock. The gift-wrapped bottle of wine grew heavy in his hands and his feet turned to lead. He didn't have time to process and hide his emotions before Adrian was ringing the doorbell and speaking into the intercom for entry. He entered through the now unlocked door and moved across the carpeted hall in a daze, guided by a comely maid. He hardly looked at the gleaming glass, the renaissance paintings and the tasteful furniture. 

When they reached the living room, Harry hesitated at the turn. He heard the formal greeting between father and son, the exchange of stiff pleasantries. He heard the voice that he had long tried to forget, even glean the artifice behind the tone despite the time that had passed.

When he knew he could avoid it no longer, he squared his shoulders and walked in. 

Tom Marvolo Riddle looked as handsome as he did six years ago. His black hair held their lustre and vibrancy, the skin taut and ageless, the burgundy eyes hypnotic as ever. Yet their was a sense of old maturity, bestowed when one has finished the walk of societal expectation of success. 

Men like Tom Marvolo Riddle were the definition of _'ageing like fine wine.'_

Every fibre of his being was telling him to turn around and run as he took fast, unsure steps towards Adrian. Except for the split eye-contact, Harry avoided Tom's gaze and laid his head on Adrian's shoulder as his fiancé's arm wrapped around his waist. The security that he was hoping to leach from the embrace was woefully lacking.

"And this is my soon to be husband, Harry James Potter," Adrian introduced as he softly nuzzled the side of Harry's head. 

Harry tilted his head slightly to peak at Tom and was met with a cool, indifferent gaze that looked the appropriate amount of interested for a future father-in-law. Despite the irrationality, Harry felt affronted by the clinical assessment. 

As if he had read the sudden turmoil within Harry, Tom's lips quirked slightly. _I still know you, Harry._

Harry felt his heart stutter and then resume at a rapid pace.

"It is my _utmost_ pleasure to meet you, _Harry Potter_." Tom followed his words with the offering of his hand for a simple handshake. Harry could see the challenge from a mile away. A challenge that was akin to one in he past.

_ “And you are?’ _

_ Harry looked at the handsome man coolly from beneath his eyelashes and then defiantly raised his chin. “Roonil. Roonil Wazlib,” he replied with all the confidence and haughtiness he could muster, as if that could hide how terrible the name was or how fake. _

_ “Well,  _ **_Roonil_** , _ you look awfully young for someone who is,” Burgundy eyes flash towards the ID on the gleaming counter, “ **twenty-eight**? Are you old enough to be in a bar like this?” _

_ Harry held back a frustrated eye-roll. Fuckin’ Ronald Weasely. _

_ Alright, he wasn't one to back down. _

_ “Are you young enough, old man? I think the section for meddling geezers is over there.” Harry even pointed a finger behind the tall stranger to get his point across. He let out an embarrassing squeak when that stupidly attractive face suddenly came close to his own.  _

_ A long finger slowly darted across the side of his face, leaving a heated, narrow trail behind. “Well then, if you are **old** enough, you can surely handle a geezer like me?”  _

_ And then those red eyes were blazing with excitement. _

Are you willing to play, sweet Harry?

Harry felt his throat close up and his gut clench. He curled his hands into fists to stop the tremors and defiantly raised his chin. Willing to forget. Unwilling to cower. 

” _Likewise_ , Mister Riddle," Harry replied with an edge to his voice and confidently accepted the handshake. 

He was sure the false projection of confidence worked to show Tom that he wouldn't be easily ruffled but when another pale, soft hand covered his, he couldn't stop his eyes from widening with shock. 

"Call me Tom. After all, we are going to be family, Harry." The accompanying baring of vicious teeth were in stark opposition to the words and all Harry could think , 

_ How much damage could happen in two hours? _

**❊•❊**

The slam of a door. Twisting of the tap. A gush of ice-cold water. Harry quickly put a stopper on the drain and filled his cupped hand from the now inundated basin. He splashed it on his face once. Then twice. Thrice. 

When it failed to work, he looked at the transparent liquid, the refracted image of the white basin and then thrust his face in the shallow water. He kept his face submerged until he felt his head grow dizzy, his hold on consciousness slow and the claws of his demons retract from punctured skin. With a white-knuckle grip, he finally lifted his face and felt the droplets roll down his skin. 

When he slowly, gently opened his eyes and his vision focused on the mirror in front of him, he almost startled at the image of a tall figure leaning against the wall behind him. 

"T-Tom," he couldn't help the stutter. Never in a million years did he want Riddle to witness this. Despite the impassive look he had, Harry knew he had shocked Tom like he had so many years ago. 

When he saw Tom's eyes close and his breathing hold, Harry thought this issue wasn't going to be addressed and would be swept under the rug. He could feel a flicker of hope alight and gazed back with barely veiled trepidation and dread. 

"I thought you had stopped.”

The words shattered the thin sheet of silence and Harry felt himself recoil from the concern they carried, an undercurrent of disbelief that was almost as much a physical entity as both Tom and him. 

"When did it start again?”

Harry thought of leaving, the need for flight increasing exponentially. But when he looked at Tom, he felt trapped, suspended. The sheer intensity of those burgundy eyes holding him imprisoned. 

Harry would stay but he would not talk. Not about this. 

When Tom realised the same, he huffed mockingly and shook his head. "Tell me you are still in contact with your therapist." 

For a while, he didn't reply. Harry didn't want to give an inch. One inch lead to two and soon a sweep. But he could still spy the ugly concern, an untamed creature lurking behind those _fuckin'_ eyes. He sighed and then responded. "Yeah, I am." 

Some of the tension eased from Tom's body and he adopted a more relaxed posture. He cocked his head to the side, gazed at Harry and then at the mirror behind him. "Does Adrian know?”

It was a loaded question. _Adrian didn't know_. It had only been two months since they have been together. But he couldn't let Tom know. Knowing Tom, he would probably feel smug, being privy to one of Harry's secret in opposition to Adrian. 

Tom wasn't one to let things go. And if the conversation in the living room for the past hour had given any clue, it was that Tom was still possessive of him. Unfortunately, he took a little long to think because Tom uttered the declaration before his reply. "You didn’t."

"You should.”

Harry's head ,which had lowered, immediately snapped to attention. What? 

Tom gave an eye-roll. "This,' he pointed at the basin," isn't a safe calming technique, Harry. Someone who is going to be with you twenty-four seven needs to know that. It is for your own safety." 

If this was six years ago, birds would have dropped dead before Tom would have given such a suggestion. Tom was a hoarder. Of his time. His memories. _His secrets_. 

Or at least he used to be. Harry realised with a sickening feeling that he had jumped back to the dynamics of the past. Of when he and Tom had been dating. 

Harry closed his eyes and tipped his head back. This was too much. Too bloody much. 

"Did you consider my request?" Tom interrupted with a slight mischievous tone.

Earlier, the request had been his breaking point and had caused him to rush out with a weak excuse. But now he felt undeniably angry.

"You fuckin' asshole. What kind of sick game are you trying to play?" Harry snarled, his anger guiding his feet forward and pointing an accusatory finger at Tom. 

Tom gave a wide smile, his teeth glinting and a tempered cruelty wedged in between the spaces. "What's wrong with asking _my_ son and in proxy, his _fiancé_ to stay with me for a while? Shouldn't you be happy for him? His father is finally desiring his company," Here he leaned forward, closing that sweet gap and breathing right against his ear," considering you were the one who brought him here?”

Harry tried. He really did. But the shiver that wracked his body at the proximity couldn't be suppressed. And when a strong arm slowly creeped around his waist and suddenly wrenched him against a defined frame, all he could do was gasp. 

It has been so long. 

So long since he last felt like this. Since he felt those arms on him.

When Tom's head turned to nose his hair, Harry melted. A far away voice was telling him to push away but it was muted and garbled so Harry ignored it. Just one more minute of this heat. Just one more. Then he would go back to the Harry that was now in love with Adrian, that was going to marry him.

"I knew you wouldn't resist." The whispered admission pierced him like an arrow. His body grew rigid and his hands tightened into fists. He was such a _fuckin' idiot_. 

He took a controlled step back from the embrace. No, from the clutches. An embrace indicates reciprocation. This wasn't that. _(from whose side? He refused to acknowledge)_

He looked at Tom, his mocking smile taunting Harry.

He cocked his head to the side and gave that blank stare that he knew people found unnerving. The stare that gave them the phantom feeling that there was something not quite so right with Harry. "What was there to resist? My future father-in-law gave a hug. It's rude to deny the old. At your age, people start taking offence for everything." The cruel words were out of Harry's mouth before he could reel them in. 

Tom's mocking smile dropped for a genuine one. He looked _elated_. "There's my boy. It's good to see you weren't entirely declawed." 

Harry gave a surprised, exasperated huff. He crossed his arms in defence. "You are still playing your old games. I have changed, Tom. Your games don't interest me or even tempt me. You need to realise that already." 

"Now it was good meeting Adrian's father. Fortunately, we will only be seeing him at the wedding. Good bye." With that parting blow, Harry turned the knob and opened the door. 

"Not interest you? Tempt you?," Tom's dark voice was filled with utter confidence as his searing heat suddenly pressed against Harry's back. "I'm your forbidden apple, darling. I will always tempt you." And then Tom was manoeuvring around Harry's body with a parting squeeze to his ass and left to join Adrian back in the living room. 

He could feel the rage, the want to prove and to crush set alight his nerves _(the resurgence of rotten pleasure of time's past)._

Harry was going to break that confidence. 

He finally let the sickly smile hidden for so long emerge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes I am writing another cheating fic. Don't ask. I berate myself enough.
> 
> this chapter was more of an introduction and to set the scene for the shameless acts in the following chapters. I had been toying with this idea for almost two months and I finally got the time to write it. it is going to be plotty, smutty, emotional and everything in between. 
> 
> Moreover, the songs/lines that I am quoting in the beginning of every chapter are a small peak into tom's thinking.
> 
> The subsequent chapters are going to be longer and I will dive into tom & harry's past relationship through flashbacks.  
> I will first finish the last chapter of 'aren't all the pretty boys happy?' and then completely devote my writing time to this fic before starting another(god i have so many ideas)
> 
> Med school is hectic and my uni's are nearing so I am nearly pulling my hair apart. I m not going to lie, a part of me posted this so I could get high off some validation from new comments.
> 
> Kudos/Comments are highly appreciated! (especially now)
> 
> I made a [Tumblr](https://circleofplanets.tumblr.com/)! Ask me anything and follow for updates! I would love to interact and answer stuff!


	2. Chapter 2

_You're a stupid boy, treatin' hearts like toys,_

_but I'm just as stupid as you_

_Stupid As You_ **Katnip**

The alcove was in a secluded place of harmony, a recess in the backside of what passed to be a shed. A piece of the forest had been mowed and trimmed, planted with European blueberry and disconnected from it’s motherland through the rusty, barbed stretch of metal. 

Harry himself sat under the canopy of a huge maple tree, it’s hemorrhagic leaves colouring the blue sky with splotches of red. He felt spread out, hidden. He had discarded his sketchbook long ago, the breeze fluttering the half-drawn pages and fanning the demons in his head.

Adrian and Harry had moved into the top floor of Riddle’s house, reserved specially for guests, almost a week ago. Adrian had immediately expressed his desire to move in when they had reached their apartment after the disastrous meeting with Tom. At least, it had been from Harry’s side. His fiancé had simply been satisfied and subsequently elated with the offer.

When those hopeful gaze had turned to him for permission, he had wanted to crush it. Crush it with his own two fists, bathe his fingers in the yellow slush. Watch it transform into violet and then smear it across Adrian’s face till he saw, saw Tom’s secrets. Harry’s secrets. Without him having to utter those shattering words.

Harry hadn’t said anything, just tilted his head. Adrian had taken it for acquiescence.

For the entirety of the week, he had avoided being alone in a room with Tom. There was always someone there to serve as a buffer, sometimes Adrian, sometimes Helen the maid. Other times he would simply rush out of the situation with the weak excuse of arranging his room, those red eyes always following his cowardly flight like a fuckin’ aimed sniper.

He lets his head thud against the brick, hoping it ejects the anxiety, the turmoil that occupies his mind. He is always afraid nowadays. Always on the lookout for a dark change in Adrian’s gaze, any sadistic remark leaving Tom’s mouth that might hint at their past relationship.

His earlier plan of setting a trap had been scrapped. Initiating a game was what Tom expected from him, wanted from him. For it would givehim the incentive to play his own. Harry can’t let himself get into it with him, not when he has a fiancé to think about _(not when he wants to so fuckin’ badly at times)_.

His eyebrows furrowed. Adrian doesn’t look much like Tom if he was being honest. There were slight resemblance around the eyes, the mouth and slope of the jaw. Otherwise, he was Caroline’s son, all softness around the edges. Now that he recalls, Caroline hadn’t seemed like Tom’s type at all. She had a timidity, a pureness. A non-fiery entity that Tom would never in a million years be interested in devouring.

Not like he had with Harry.

He immediately shook his head to dispel that thought and crossed his arms over his chest angrily. 

There had been no fleeting touches too. He had been like a coiled spring the first few days, waiting for a brush of hand against his ass, a grab at his waist, the heat of a warm, strong body against his back when he wasn’t paying attention. The worst part was, the relief was always tainted with a sense of disappointment. 

Harry blew away the messy piece of hair that suddenly blocked his eyes. He snapped the rubber band on his wrist once, relished the slight sting and then tied his hair with it.

Adrian had been advising him to cut his hair every time Harry complained about them. He earlier had planned to but after shifting, his heart hadn’t seemed into it. He didn’t want to acknowledge the small, nestled pleasure he felt whenever a pair of burgundy eyes darkened at the display of his open hair, the large, beautiful hands twitching at the sides. Wanting to grab. Grab. Grab.

_ (It always was for Tom. It always is.) _

** ✻●✻ **

The dinner was always an awkward affair. There was Harry, who fixated his gaze almost obsessively to his plate, Tom whose amused gaze alternated between the spread out food and Harry and then there was Adrian. Sweet, naive Adrian plopped in the middle of it, desperately filling the silence with his office anecdotes or pitiful jokes from some daily show.

Sometimes Tom engaged him, sometimes ignored him. But he always kept his son at the edge. Handing out enough approval-coated morsels to keep him wanting more, Harry shrewdly noticed. Frankly, he was itching to know the reason for such coldness but that would require him to bend his neck and be the first one to talk to Tom.

So he cubes his meat and keeps his lips sealed. 

“So, uhh, Harry! Dad had been quite curious about your job when I first told him. In fact, before dinner also he mentioned his interest in knowing more,” Adrian said, grabbing at the seams of a possible conversation starter. Harry’s head snapped to attention and for the first time, in the entirety of the dinner, he met Tom’s eyes.

Fuckin’ hell. They were amused and almost gloating. _‘Are you going to give in first?’_

He closed his eyes and then pasted a convincing, abashed smile. He glanced at Adrian from under his eyelashes, his neck tilted in a manner of shyness. “Adrian, baby.” He felt a slight tenseness from Tom and hid his smile. “Don’t put me under the spotlight like that. You know I am shy.” To cinch the deal, he sent a pleading smile towards his fiancé.

Adrian melted under his advances, a fond chuckle escaping him. He patted Harry’s hand in reassurance and then laid it. Turning to Tom he spoke,”It’s better that I tell anyway. Harry has a habit of undermining his talents.” He missed the slight raise of Tom’s eyebrows but Harry didn’t. He wished he could give the fuckin’ piece of smirking crap his middle finger.

“Harry works as a graphic designer for the Belissima magazine, for it’s subsidiary branch in London mainly andfor major projects, he is part of the collaboration team with Italy. He is really good, receives job offers a lot. ”

Harry felt himself smile fondly in the face of such earnestness. He was reminded of their first date. The stuttered compliments, embarrassed smile, the wriggling that Harry had found so cute. He had seen someone safe, someone with whom he could have a secure future.

He grabbed the wine glass by its stem and sipped it. Unconsciously, his eyes flicked to Tom over the rim. They widened. 

Tom was looking at him intensely, a small furrow between his eyebrows. A finger was grazing his lower lip and he looked...confused. Somehow betrayed. Slightly devastated.

Harry didn’t want to look anymore. He also didn’t want to stay.

“Ah,I-I feel full, honestly. Please continue. I have some work to finish too.” With that, he hurried out, bewildered gazes trained on his back.

God, why did he suddenly feel so suffocated?

** ✻●✻ **

The television flashed and changed, painting his face like a rudimentary Pollock canvas. He kept dipping his hand into a bowl of nachos and cheese and stuffed his face with them.

It was two o’clock in the morning, the world outside was completely dark and he had pulled the curtains on the glass doors. His imagination kept conjuring ghosts just across the transparent glass. He also had turned on a lamp, the warm glow settling his nerves and letting him focus on the cartoon.

“Had a feeling you will be here.”

Harry startled and almost dropped his bowl. “The fuck! Shit!” He whipped his head towards the tall figure enveloped in the shadows. “What the fuck, Tom! It is too late in the night to act as a creepy motherfucker.”

Tom gave a chuckle and stepped out of the shadows towards the sofa. “When’s the right time?”

He sat down at the other end, his figure arranging and rearranging into a regal posture. Then he gave a sudden pause, glanced at Harry and quick as a flash, relaxed his whole body and let it be lazy. Harry didn’t want to acknowledge the implications of that. Not now.

He wriggled closer to his own end and then continued to watch the television. Unconsciously, the monotonous drivel took him back to much more simpler, exciting time.

_ “And then-, listen to this, he had the fuckin’ audacity to say my artwork was not relevant! Apparently, splashing paint here and there is now much more of an art than actually painting it. Stupid ferrety ass-licker.” Harry’s hands were gesturing and waving wildly to express the anger behind his tirade. _

_ “You love abstract painting,” Tom supplied helpfully. _

_ “No shit, gay Sherlock.” Harry ignored the boisterous laughter. “I love all art. Just because my art is more inclined towards renaissance and impressionism, doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate and derive inspiration from other art types. But Draco ‘Kandinsky’ Malfoy is above that shit. Apparently, he has a fuckin’ galaxy brain tha- oh hey, Daria kissedTom. Well, damn!” _

_ His Tom nodded from where his head was laid out on Harry’s lap. He turned and then lifted Harry’s ratty t-shirt to burrow his face under it. From there, his muffled voice said. “Continue.” Harry could glimpse a partially hidden patrician nose, a soft bottom lip from some of the tears in the flimsy material. _

_ With the cartoon serving as white noise, he continued. Whenever Tom would interject with something sweet like ‘Your paintings are beautiful, expressive. What does that blonde shit know?’ or ‘His family has money. He could fling his faeces at the canvas and his father would still buy it’,Harry would lift his shirt and plant a rough kiss. Then he would cover Tom’s face again and continue.  _

Suddenly, his chest felt too tight and there was a pain behind his eyes. He closed them, counted down from ten and then buried the resurrected feelings. His fingers fluttered across his face and he forcefully put down his hands.

“ _Rugrats_ huh? Remember when you wanted me to dress up as Angelica for Halloween?” Tom suddenly remarked, his voice taking that distracting lilt.

Harry barked out a laugh, wisps of fondness coming out of the grave he had just created. Tom. 

“I also remember you trying to burn that costume over the _‘Oh, I don’t know how the gas stove turned on Harry’_.” He didn’t resist the smile that overtook his face when Tom laughed, unashamed. 

“In my defence, you already knew I wouldn’t wear it. You just wanted some entertainment. I was only delivering,” Tom replied and gave him a smirk, his eyes alight and suddenly happy. 

Harry felt his heart skip a beat. Then another.

He instantly looked away, focused his gaze back to the television. But the feeling of camaraderie remained and he enjoyed the comfortable silence. He was tired of acting as if he didn’t enjoy Tom’s company, as if he didn’t want it.

As if he didn’t have regrets.

He didn’t know when it happened but somewhere in the middle of the episode, Tom had stopped watching and was now staring at Harry. He could feel a tension creeping in, his insides slowly knotting until they become a painful coil. 

Tom turned his gaze back to the show and then asked, his voice emotionless. “Your new interest lies in graphic designing now?”

It might as well have been a question about the weather, so distant did he sound. 

Even though it was not one, not really, Harry took it as an attack. It was easier. “Fuck off. Whatever I do, whatever i like is none of your business.”

It was crude. It was cruel. And it got a rise out of Tom. “Discarded that easily, huh? Painting is a spurned lover now?”

The words felt caustic and Harry’s mouth was moving before he could think. “Not unlike yourself, huh?”

He slapped a hand to his mouth the moment he realised what he had implied.

Tom’s nostrils flared, his eyes burning with rage. The muscle of his jaw ticked and he was clenching his teeth so hard, it felt like he would rip through the enamel, identical swords clashing and burying in each other. Tom’s throat bobbed. Swallowed the acidic letters with his own saliva.

It was the restraint that had Harry grabbing Tom’s wrist when he was passing by to leave. He could feel his heart hollowing and filling with guilt. “Tom, wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” 

He hoped that Tom could hear the sincerity behind his words and tightened his hold. “Please. Sit back down. I was being defensive and what I said was not true.” Harry couldn’t help but plead.

With coiled tension, Tom turned his head a fraction. “Isn’t it?”

Harry didn’t know how to answer and it seemed Tom also knew this. The tension suddenly left his body and the resistance was gone. Tom turned back and took his seat again. He looked tired, no more angry. All Harry wanted to do was kiss those closed eyelids and whisper his apology. 

“I tried to paint after what had happened in my graduating year, you know.” His heart grew heavy just remembering it. “But they all looked bad. So ugly. I could just see they wouldn’t sell. And so I gave up. They wouldn’t sell and I had to support myself.” He then gave a helpless smile to Tom. “So I did a course in Graphic Designing. Did a favour for Ginny’s business. It took off from there, I guess.”

There was a lot stuff that Harry omitted. But they were his skeletons to deal with and bury.

Riddle was looking at him like he didn’t believe him. Unexpectedly, Harry liked that fact more. 

“Adrian wasn’t wrong when he said you under-sell yourself. In situations that matter,” He was quick to add when he saw Harry start to protest. “But now you have money. Time. No audience to impress. Just you. Harry, you can finally draw for yourself and not have to worry, if you want to.”

The last line hit him hard. Selling his paintings had been a stressful factor at that time, albeit not the only one. He could paint however he wanted without having to worry about how it would be received for now and away from the eyes of his ghosts. It has been four years now and he has been taking therapy regularly. Things should be different now. Better now.

The idea started to take a lighter, brighter tone.

His voice sounded thoughtful when he replied, “I could, couldn’t I?” 

There was a blooming hope in him that he tried to contain. But the idea of painting again felt...he didn’t know how to put it in words. It had been years and suddenly, now felt like a better time than any.

When he looked at Tom again, he couldn’t help but grin.

And later on, when Tom got close enough for their shoulder’s to be a hair breadth apart, Harry didn’t protest the closeness and enjoyed the strange intimacy.

**✻●✻**

Once the crack appeared in the ice, there was no preventing it’s collapse. 

The following days showed a lightness in their interaction. Their morning greetings are warm where earlier they were terse. Their conversations were now filled with banter where earlier they were, well, non-existent. 

It could be due the night they had shared. It could also be blamed on simply being in Tom’s sphere for a longer period. Or maybe it had something to do with the art supplies that had been delivered in his name two days later.

Harry had yet to tear the wrapping and begin. But he was still grateful.

They had started talking to each other at the dinner table too, to the utter relief of Adrian. He was still mindful of not acting too familiar with Tom and showered Adrian with constant attention and kept him included in the conversation. _(the guilt was creeping, rotting)_

Today, since Helen had left early, Harry had volunteered to clean the dishes. He had connected his bluetooth with the refrigerator, which was now playing a soothing playlist.

Soon he had fallen into a rhythm of dipping, cleaning, drying and then arranging the dishes on the dish-rack while simultaneously humming a tune. It was midway when he became aware of another presence in the kitchen. He ignored it and continued his work, hoping he will go away (hoping he will stay).

When Tom finally spoke, he had started walking closer. Harry knew, if Tom wanted, he could have easily disguised his footsteps. 

“Need some help?” The words were whispered right in his ear, warm breath heating them. His shoulders had unconsciously bunched up. 

It didn’t sound like a question. 

When Tom finally moved away, his nose deliberately brushed against the cartilage of Harry’s earlobe. He felt his face grow hot and his knuckles turn almost white from where they were gripping a plate. The tension between them had returned, vibrant and _so utterly alive_.

Tom started to clearthe cluttered jars of spices, picking them and putting them one by one on the shelf that was right beside Harry. He would pick a container, stand behind Harry and then as he stretched to place it in the shelf, his solid chest would press against his back. 

Harry didn’t say anything. Not with the blood rushing in his ears and his tongue suddenly feeling swollen.

Every time Tom repeated, he would press even more. More, more, more until at last his hard on was rubbing against Harry’s ass and he had to stifle an instinctive moan.

God, this shouldn’t be happening. Fuck. Even though Adrian had retired to their room and was probably in the middle of his sleeping routine, he could still come down. Could find them in an even more of a compromising position.

He could imagine the descending footsteps, Adrian entering the kitchen to check up on Harry, finding him spread out on the countertop with the dishes discarded and Tom kissing his mouth, twisting his nipples, licking his hole. 

The look of devastation crossing his face to see his own father fucking his fiancé behind his back.

He was sick. So sick to be turned on like this.

The resurgent guilt was like a zap of electricity and he dropped the plate he had been cleaning since Tom had arrived. His fingers, his body trembled and he quickly side-stepped the hard body that was pressed against his back.

His wet hands were wringing the cloth he had grabbed as Harry stuttered out a reply. “I-I have to go. Please take over for me.”

He ignored the look of surprise on Tom’s handsome face and immediately rushed out. When he finally reached the top banister, his lungs gave out and he pressed a hand to his chest. Harry dropped on the stairs and cradled his head between his knees.

What was wrong with him?

He was such an asshole. 

The green-eyed male tightly closed his eyes, his breath whooshing out and tried to imagine Adrian. 

Adrian, with his kind blue eyes, soft, nervous mouth, silky ash-blonde hair. Adrian who didn’t have a bad bone in his body, was always sweet to Harry.

Adrian, with the mediocre sex and even more mediocre conversation. 

Adrian, who wasn’t Tom. 

That felt like the biggest con of all.

Harry felt he was standing at an impasse, a seashore.

Tom was the big, bad wave hurling towards him and Adrian the thatched hut that was offering shelter.

He felt startled to realise that if it ever comes to, Harry might not choose the shelter.

The thread binding him to Adrian felt infected.

** ✻●✻ **

The following morning Harry stood hidden behind the wall, at the entryway to the kitchen. Riddle was cooking breakfast since it was Sunday, Helen’s holiday. Wafts of a frying omelet and grounded coffee beans tickled his senses.

He was a ball of nerves, last night event’s and the fitful sleep he had adding onto his anxiety. Avoiding Tom again sounded childish and how long could he? Adrian and he had to live here for another two months before they leave to start their wedding preparations.

_ (He didn’t admit how much he has missed Tom’s company.) _

He took a deep breath. He was not a coward. He would face this head-on like a man.

Harry put one foot forward and immediately pivoted back when he saw Tom turning. Fuck. he can’t do it with Tom _facing_ him.

Tom was whisking the batter now, the sleeves of his thin sweater rolled up to his elbows and god, why did he have to still look so hot?

He rolled his eyes. Apparently, a fitful sleep and daylight were enough to mitigate the guilt.

“Are you going to keep staring from afar?” Tom suddenly turned around, his lips pulling into a smirk at the ‘caught-in-headlights’ look Harry had. “I am sure I could pass you a plate if you want to have breakfast on the stairs.”

Arrogant git.

Harry gave him a middle finger and strode into the kitchen as if he himself owned it. The git’s smirk widened at this and he felt his cheeks start to heat. _Fuckin’ hell_. Today was going to be a barrage of profanities.

He opened a cupboard and took out the Cap n’ Crunch that he had asked Helen to buy on her last grocery trip. Fluidly, he slid onto the countertop and started eating them without any milk. Tom turned to look upon hearing the crunching and paused, an inscrutable look flashing across his face.

“You are going to ruin your appetite.”

“Don’t underestimate me. I can eat.”

Tom gave him a clinical once-over and then rolled his eyes. “I’m not surprised.”

Harry squawked in indignation. “What does that mean? Are you body-shaming me?”

He got an answering shrug but Harry could see the lingering smile. “If you take it that way, it might be.”

“That is such a politician thing to say.” He raised the Cap n’ Crunch in an accusing manner and wagged it.

“If you haven’t noticed, darling, I’m a politician.”

Behind Tom’s turned back, Harry tried to suppress the instinctive reaction at hearing the familiar endearment. He focused his eyes on the cooking meal to distract himself. “Not for long. I heard Mary Edgecombe is running against you in the upcoming elections.”

Tom looked back at him and gave him a wink and fuckin’ hell, how was Harry supposed to discourage this? “Well, my sources tell me she likes to powder her nose every now and then. If someday it leaks to the newspaper, by chance mind you, I would lose a worthy competitor.”

Harry raised an eyebrow and snorted. Typical Tom. “You would have to be thorough and get hold of the dealer. She probably uses several indirect channels.”

He got a sudden handsome, roguish grin in reply. “I don’t have to worry about that.” Harry frowns. “Not when I am the supplier.”

He balks at the reveal and then gives a bark of laughter. When Tom steps closer to him, he slaps a hand on Tom’s arm. “You didn’t! Fuck Tom. You are the devil.” 

Without meaning to, his words come out laced with fondness and he sees Tom’s eyes soften in return. His gaze drops to Harry’s lips and then back up to his eyes.When Tom starts closing the gap between them, cautiously, Harry just watches. His head feels dizzy and there is a warmth in his gut that is making him feel so compliant, making it easy to stop thinking and just let go. The past that he had with this man was still so inextricably tied to his person that sometimes denying him felt like denying himself.

A centimetre gap. Exchange of breath. And then a thud of footsteps.

Harry immediately moves back and withdraws the hand that was still on Riddle’s arm. He could already feel his heart beating rapidly from anxiety. But Tom…Tom doesn’t move. He looks at him, his burgundy eyes cataloguing every feature, every movement and all Harry could do was stare back with pleading eyes. 

Just before Adrian enters the kitchen, he swiftly steps back and over to the gas stove, picking up the frying pan again.

“Good morning!” Adrian follows the greeting immediately with a kiss and Harry. God, Harry recoils back. 

Adrian doesn’t notice and starts chatting up his father, perky in the morning and ready to seize the day.

He suddenly felt like groaning. It was eight in the morning and already the day was starting weirdly. 

He knew there was a reason he wasn’t a morning person.

** ✻●✻ **

The presenter drawls on and on about the irrelevant details surrounding the new product launch. Victor Hugo would be rolling in his grave at the competition Mark is giving to his speech about the Waterloo and Parisian sewers that had spanned several pages in _Les Miserables_. 

Harry remembers dropping that book because of it, much to Tom’s chagrin.

_ Tom Tom Tom. _

He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about him, not for the lack of trying. 

Tom, with his stupid dark eyes, soft thin lips that are always pulled into some semblance of a condescending smirk.

Tom, with his unrealistically nice body, wavy hair that without pomade fall into his eyes and give him a seductive look.

Tom, his ex-boyfriend and the father of his fiancé.

Tom, who is dangerous and hides it. _Hides it well._

Harry isn’t an idiot. He isn’t fooled by the lamb behaviour Tom has been displaying for the past two weeks. He is biding his time, lulling Harry into a false sense of security, pulling him down in the rabbit hole of Tom’s making. Now that Harry is out of the house, his mind has gained some clarity and he can see the signs.

He had thought inviting Adrian and he to stay had been impulsive, a way for Tom to create his plan while having the cattle in his domain. But Tom is not impulsive. And he has the advantage of knowing Harry inside and out. It was a plan of juxtaposition. 

Put Tom and Adrian in the same room and see who comes out on top. Riddle was arrogant enough to gamble on it. And much to Harry’s disbelief, it had worked perfectly. Wasn’t it two days ago only he was sitting on the stairs and comparing them? 

That night on the couch, the mention of his foregone painting career and then careening him towards it. A few days later, the delivery of the art supplies. Harry shook his head and started nibbling on the ballpoint pen. No, it had been for Harry’s benefit. Tom wasn’t cruel to Harry but usually, all of his actions are double-sided. And that delivery had the added benefit of endearing Tom to him and Harry had softened after it, hadn’t he?

And now Tom was intent on luring him into a physical relationship. He was the snake that slithers in the grass, slowly closing in on his prey.

Tom had arranged all his pieces on the table. Now that Harry is aware, what move was he going to make? If any?

He squeezed his eyes closed. 

There was an excitement thrumming over the thick layer of guilt. An oily layer floating above the plain, unmoving water.

He could end it all. Put a stop to this, move out and live with Adrian peacefully. Go through his life with no bumps, no excitement. Just Adrian and predictability.

His eyes flashed open.

The simple idea of it felt suffocating. But he didn’t want to give up Adrian. _Not when he fit the perfect description of..._

He let out a shuddering breath. He didn’t have to make a decision. Right now, all he could do is move with the flow and see what happens.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and Harry slyly fished it out. When he was sure that everyone was busy with questioning Mark, he unlocked his phone and looked at the message from ‘Adrian C. Davis’.

Upon opening it, he felt his eyes widen in shock. 

** \--> Hey, babe. **

** \--> This meeting is boring. **

** \--> Wish I had your sexy ass by my side. **

Adrian was sexting him?

That felt so out of character and unexpected considering what had happened last time they had tried it. Suffice to say, Adrian was too awkward with it so Harry had axed the idea for any future endeavours. He could feel his eyes narrowing. 

Something was wrong. 

There was a missed call from an unknown number and chewing his bottom lip, he dials it. There was a lull in the meeting so no one objected.

“Hello?”

“Harry! This is Adrian.”

“Why are you calling from another phone?”

“Uhh, I actually left my phone at home. Funnily enough, I remember taking it downstairs with me before leaving but ehh, whatever. I just wanted to inform you since I can’t go back to retrieve it. This is my office number, save it.I have an important meeting starting. Bye, love you!”

Harry cut the call. His mind was reeling. He quickly opened the imessage from Adrian and there was no denying who was sending him these messages. 

Tom was a stickler for punctuation. 

He could feel a sick thrill run unbidden up his spine, an army of ants climbing each vertebrae. _L3,L2,L1...C7, C6..._

He cracked his neck and looked at the screen again. Then, he started typing, a gnawing, writhing pit opening in his pelvis and demanding sacrifices.

_ <\-- And what would you do if I was? Just kiss me? _

He waited. And then ping.

** \--> Not that easily. I would let my hands wander down, down your back, inside your jeans until my large hands are palming your ass. Grabbing them, kneading them. You would give those sweet, little mewls that you tend to give when you like it. When you want more. **

** \--> But no. You would try to stop. Because there are people, respectable people in suits watching. Knowing. **

Harry felt himself shudder. God, he could imagine it right now. Tom’s large hands on his ass, relentless. Groping him in front of everyone. But oh, who said Harry would resist? 

_ <\-- You don’t give me enough so I get us even. My hand would slither over your pants, brush against your slowly hardening cock.  _

_ <\-- But I won’t touch it just yet. I would let my hand slide over your knee, your thigh, to the juncture...You would be trembling but trying to hide it, resisting the urge to just take out your cock, grab my neck and slam my mouth on it. _

Harry waits. Let’s it simmer.

\--> yes more

He feels euphoric. 

_ <\-- I would finally let my hand rest on the front of your pants and start palming your big cock until it is fully hard. Big and wet and mine. _

_ <\-- My fingers would now move towards the zipper and slowly unzip you.  _

“Harry?”

He suddenly looks up and around at the table. Parvati Patil, the head manager, was looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Uhh, yes?” he stutters out a reply. He rolls his bottom lip into his mouth and tries to appear attentive.

“I asked if you were agreeable to the features that Mark wanted in the design?” Parvati repeats the question with an amused smile.

Harry fumbles his way to a middle ground. “I’m sure we can discuss more upon this and together come up with what the design should look like.”

When Parvati finally nodded at him and had moved on to another poor soul, Harry surreptitiously went back to the messages.

** \--> Harry? **

** \--> Seems like your attention has wandered. Such disobedience...that won’t do. **

** \--> I see your wandering eyes and immediately tighten my hold on your ass. You let out a surprise gasp but I’m not done. **

** \--> I let my hand dip inside your underwear and let my middle finger slowly trace a path across your fluttering hole.  **

Harry can feel the blood rushing back to his cheeks and replies.

_ <\-- I move my ass back into your hand, aching for more while at the same time I discover you don’t have your underwear on. Your large, naked cock springs free and I look at you and slowly lick my lips. _

** \--> I itch to bite your wet lips. Taste your mouth. Taste your slutty hole.  **

** \--> My index finger moves around your rim and your greedy hole tries to grab my finger, desperate to take it. **

** \--> [image attached] **

Harry swallows a moan as the image finally loads.It is _Tom’s cock_ , grasped in a large hand and taken from an overhead angle. It is hard, big and dripping precum. God, he had forgotten how perfect Tom’s dick was. He receives another message and his heart rate skyrockets.

** \--> Your turn, baby. **

Harry directs a nervous, excited gaze around the table. For whatever grace looking out for him, Parvati calls for a smoke break. He is instantly out of his seat, hiding his rock hard cock with a file and rushing out of the room.

He quickly enters the men’s bathroom and directs a crazy look around as he throws the file on the countertop. He grabs the small bottle of essential oils near the soap dispenser, enters the cubicle farthest from the entryway and slams the door shut. He takes off his pants along with his underwear and hangs them on the doorknob, everything messy and him uncaring. 

He drops the lid on the toilet seat and damn, he was going mad with this need. It was fuelling him, setting his nerves alight every time he pictures Tom sitting in his study, his pants unzipped and his cock out, patiently waiting for Harry to send a picture in return. His eyes intent, gleaming, seductive.

When Harry has arranged himself over the seat with the phone now supported against the wall, he switches function from photo to video and starts it. 

His breaths come out in pants as Harry directs his oil coated fingers to his ass and slips one inside him. The rough feel has him moaning out in reply and he wants to savour it but god, Tom is waiting. 

He relaxes his body and then finally, slides another finger in. His body feels so hot, sexy. The sting of two fingers and the massaging of the walls heating the fire in his belly. He lets himself groan and moan as his fingers hit his prostate and drive him up the wall with the sensation. When he thinks it’s enough, he turns around and with his clean hand stops the video. Hecrops the beginning with all the fumbling and finally sends it through.

While he waits for a reply, he fingers himself to the photo of Tom’s cock. After two minutes has passed, instead of a photo, he also receives a video. 

When it finally starts, Harry could have come then and there.

Tom has already reached his orgasm, cum was dribbling down his cock. He must have been a little oversensitive for the sliding of his hand was producing small, pained moans serving as background noise. Harry immediately puts the video on loop and finally starts rubbing his prostate while simultaneously grabbing his own dick and wanking it.

He comes with a full-body shudder. 

His head feels dizzy with relief and endorphins and he languidly cleans himself up. Soon, he is washing his hands in the basin and placing the essential oil back in it’s place, nobody the wiser.

His mind is free of any guilt, stress. All he can do is feel a bone-deep satisfaction.

When he looks at the final message from Tom, he lets himself laugh loudly.

** \--> Pleasure doing business with you, darling. **

** ✻●✻ **

The days until Saturday pass in a prosaic blur, each day a mirror image of the previous. Harry is good at repression, his therapist would even say skilled at it and the memories of Monday had been thrown into a _‘do not open’_ box along with the omnipresent guilt. 

He ignores the fact that the guilt stings less each passing day.

Tom had been busy with campaigning, so much so that dinner had become an affair of two. Adrian and Harry. Just like it used be in their apartment.

Except it is not like it used to be.

It used to be easier to listen to Adrian. But now, Harry wanted to hear cutting remarks, exchange humorous barbs, spit complete desecration of the character of someone they met at work. Or wax poetic about the magnolia laden trail he had found behind a quaint flower shop and have a pair of burgundy eyes roll at him.

Harry felt twisted. 

Twisted so many times that it has started feeling right.

He would feel his thoughts wandering as Adrian shared everything about his day and the guilt would suddenly hit him like a punching glove springing free from a gift box. The following night, he would blow Adrian until he is a gasping mess and go to bed feeling dirtier. 

On Saturday, Tom had planned to take them out for dinner at an expensive, uptown Italian restaurant and Harry starts readying himself early. He puts on some music and starts wearing the ironed outfit that he had finally settled on two days ago. Pulls on a pair of smooth, beige pants and a black turtleneck with a hidden zipper on the neckline. Walks to the dresser and valiantly combs his hair and finally pulls them into a messy bun. 

He finishes his look with a thin eyeliner, a silver chain around his neck and puts on his grey Derby shoes. He starts to clean up the mess when Adrian enters the room. ‘Woah, Harry. You have gone all out today.”

Harry freezes. He puts down the clothes and stands in front of the floor-length mirror. God, he really had. Does that look desperate?

He starts fidgeting with his outfit and the other male must have noticed him overthinking because a pair of arms slides around his waist and a chin rests on his shoulder. 

“You look great, Harry. Makes me wish we didn’t have to go,” Adrian whispers sweetly in his ear. Harry gives a tremulous smile in return, feeling a little awkward. 

He pats Adrian’s hands and then slowly disentangles himself. “Let’s get going. Tom must be waiting.”

He doesn’t notice the narrowing of Adrian’s eyes and quickly grabs his wallet and phone and on second thought, his coat too. 

They leave.

The restaurant was classically designed and had a very private aura to it. They were seated such that Tom sat across from Harry while Adrian sat in the middle, lateral chair. It felt like a mockery.

Previous relationship with Tom had taught him all he needed to know regarding manners in upper echelon society. After their orders were done away with, he tasted his wine and finally took Tom in.

After four days of barely seeing him, catching fleeting glimpses of a tall body disappearing behind doors, Harry felt a ravenous need to observe that he had tried to push down the whole drive over. But now, he took Riddle in.

His hair were slicked back, his face handsome albeit there being some tiredness around the eyes. He was wearing a maroon shirt that was undone at the collar, showing a defined clavicle and stretching over broad, lean shoulders.

Tom looked _delicious._

When his eyes suddenly looked up, Harry choked a little on his drink and quickly directed his gaze towards Adrian who was busy on his phone, his face tensed and his fingers tapping furiously. Unconsciously, his eyes flitted to Tom’s again and they were _so amused_. Well...

“So, Tom. How is your campaign going on? I heard one of your party member was accused of bribing votes. Avery, was it?” Harry takes a sip and then smacks his lips. “ _How scandalous._ ” A sly smile slowly pulls at the corners of his lips. Conversations with Tom were the best cure for boredom.

Tom gives a replying grin, shark teeth bared and gearing up for defence.“It could have been. He was cleared of all charges this morning only.” Then Tom bends closer, as if about to tell a closely held secret.“Fortunately, the party is headed by a _very_ competent leader.”

Harry snorts, ungraceful and unabashed. “More like a very competent braggart.”

Tom substitutes a wide smile for a laugh but Harry knew he wanted to. “It is a pity that others are quick to accuse of boasting every time a person tells a positive attribute about themselves.” Tom shots back, quick as a viper.

“It may be for those people. You, on the other hand, just brag.” 

It was coarse, rude but fuck if he couldn’t see how much Tom liked it. A cloak of warmth descends around them, electric and sizzling. 

It is ripped away as soon it touches them.

“Ha ha! I never knew you had such a rude tongue, Harry.” He immediately snaps his attention to Adrian and feels like he had just committed a grave crime. There is something in Adrian’s eyes, something panicked and fervent. It is gone before Harry can decipher it. Doesn’t want to because the implications felt too damning.

Unlike Harry, Tom doesn’t appreciate the input. Probably considers it an interruption. There is something cold about those eyes now, trained as they were on his son. 

He rests his elbows on the table and clasps his hands together, as if in supplication. _An utter mockery_. “Adrian, I remember you used to be very interested in mythology. I learned an interesting tale from one of my colleagues today and I think you would like it.” Tom’s voice is enamouring but Harry can feel an edge. A knife slowly digging through a thick sweater.

Adrian seems oblivious, his eyes shining at the fact that his father remembers his interests. For the first time, Harry truly feels bad for him.

“It is from Hindu mythology, about the most beautiful woman called _Ahalya_ , who was created by a god, _Brahma_ and gifted to a saint, _Gautama_ for his asceticism and faith. Years pass until one day _Gautama_ leaves the ashrama. _Indra_ , God of the gods, seizes the chance and disguises himself as _Gautama_ to seduce _Ahalya_ into sleeping with him. 

They are found out, of course, and both are cursed. But if popular narrative and old texts are to be followed, _Ahalya_ had seen through the disguise and still consented to sleeping with _Indra_. Interesting isn’t it? The lengths people can go to when they want to sate their curiosity,” Tom takes a sip of his wine, savouring the tension he has created. “Or maybe boredom?”

He has the fuckin’ gall to smile after his little speech.

It had seemed that whatever Adrian had tried to hide, Tom had glimpsed it and _wrenched_ it out from it’s hiding place.

Adrian tries to look unaffected but he is shaken. He avoids Tom’s eyes and gives a short reply. “It could be. Tales are tales.”

Tom gives a sultry laugh that makes the hairs on his arm stand. “Are they? When they so easily mirror real life? There is someone I know who might be in a similar situation.” 

Harry could visibly feel Adrian freeze and look wide-eyed at his father. Harry himself felt horror-stuck, _the mere suggestion_...was Tom really going to rip the veil and make Adrian see?

“A politician,” The sadistic glee has Harry closing his eyes to the crash, too shocked to watch or speak. “Mary Edgecombe. She has been having an extra-marital affair, if my sources are right.”

The relief crashes Harry like an insurmountable wave and he visibly breathes out a sigh. Adrian’s condition mirrors him, the tense lines disappearing from his face and his visage turning back to it’s normal colour.

“Oh, I didn’t expect that. The papers had been hailing her as the pinnacle of goodness. An- the food has arrived.” The relief flooding Adrian’s voice was painfully visible.

The subject change doesn’t dissipate the still tense atmosphere, a lingering stench that remains even after the decomposed food has been taken away. They eat their dinner in silence amongst the slight bustle of the restaurant. When their plates are being taken away, Adrian receives a phone call and gets up to leave. Harry follows his example, short, angry strides taking him to the restroom.

He slams the door shut and quickly moves towards the basins, turning on the tap and chasing the sweet repose provided by cold water. He hears the entry door open and the audible click of a lock. He whirls around, anger making his movements jerky and vicious. “ _What the fuck was that, Tom?_ Are you suicidal? Do you want me to murder you that badly?”

Tom is all lean lines and grace as he postures himself against the wall, a metre from Harry. “No need to be so theatric, darling. Save some for Adrian or he might actually catch on.”

Harry’s mouth drops open and then he is shaking his head in frustration. “You are so infuriating. Why did you do that? Just because he added on to the conversation?” His arms were flayingnow.

Tom sniffs and his eyes narrow in response to the imaginary purported injustice against him. “He interrupted us, quite rudely. I didn’t like it.” He adjusts his cufflinks nonchalantly. 

“He is your son! Fuck! How can you be so callous towards him?” Harry couldn’t help but shriek. 

“Like you are oh, so considerate?” Tom’s words are like a whip. When he gives no reply, Tom rolls his eyes. “Come on, Harry. I know he bores you to death.”

Harry is immediately closing the distance between them, all rage and pain. “Don’t make assumptions about our relationship, Riddle. You have no fuckin’ right.”

He is so angry, he feels like pushing Tom. Pushing him until he falls into an undignified heap and is subjected to humiliation by his hands. 

Tom steps closer and his height gives him the advantage to loom. “I have every right. Tell me Harry, how have the past four years been for you? Adrian told me some very interesting things.” Harry’s too shocked and confused to stop Tom from coming closer. When his breath is almost fanning Harry’s face, he continues gleefully,”Shared some of his insecurities in regards to you. Apparently, this is your first serious relationship in years. Said he got to know from some friends that there was an older guy you dated.”

“For two years. Some high figure.” And now Riddle was too close, too close to his ears. Too close to the aching truth. 

“Should I tell him?” Tom whispered darkly against the skin behind his ear and a searing hand touches his neck, grabs the zipper. “Correct him that it was three years?” Pulls the zipper lower. Drops a hot kiss.“That he is London’s Mayor?” Lower. Kiss. “That it is his father?” Another kiss at the now exposed hollow of his neck.

Harry bares his teeth, mutters a ‘shut up’ but it is weak and pitiful. Tom smiles, imprints it on his skin and whispers sweetly,” Tell me, Harry.”

“Has my ghost been chasing you all these years?”

Harry snaps. 

He fists a hand in black hair, pulls them and then he is slamming his mouth against Tom’s, all rage and guilt and want. So much want. He had missed this cruel man terribly.

Tom himself surges forward, his arms grabbing a trim waist and his teeth clashing with Harry’s. Everything is painful and the want just keeps on increasing. An unquenchable beast.

His hand slips from Tom’s hair, so he wounds it around a bent, pale neck. The hands that were on his waist have already moved down, palming his ass and pushing him against a hard chest. It feels so hot. 

A battle of teeth turns to a battle of tongues as Harry opens his mouth to the onslaught of a tongue against his teeth.He moans loudly when his mouth is thoroughly mapped, the appendage diving deep. His back hits the wall and his body sags against it. 

Tom instantly lifts one of Harry’s leg and hooks it around his waist. He presses forward a little and feels Tom’s large hard-on and rubs his own against it. Tom is panting softly against his neck now, their kiss broken so they could just feel the rush. 

Harry wants to rip Tom’s pants and take his hard cock in his mouth. Wants to rip his own and bend over the marble top. Press his hot face to the cool surface and present his aching hole. Wants Tom to take him without preparation. 

Feel the blood and the pleasure and the pain because when there’s pain, then it feels real. And Harry wants it to feel real. Not one of his dreams from the past years where he wakes up in cold sweat and all alone.

All alone with no Tom.

The tall male must be feeling the same as him because there is a desperation to his next words.

“Harry, _god_. What have you done to me?” Tom sounds so lost and Harry cradles his head and presses their lips together, hoping Tom understands what he can’t say.

The jiggle of the doorknob breaks the moment. The person does it two more times and then leaves.

They break apart slowly. For the first time, Harry is uncaring about the consequences. He splashes his face with water and tames his hair. When he looks up, Tom is already looking impeccable, not a hair out of place. He huffs and moves to open the door but his arm is snagged midway, halting him.

When he turns to look, Tom is already capturing his mouth again. A deep, short kiss that rattles his bones.Then he releases Harry and manoeuvres around him to open the door. 

_ ‘A nice, sweet person. Pure from heart and loves you kindly.' _

The words shatter the illusion he had cloaked himself in and he suddenly feels a cold fear take it’s place. His steps falter and his knees go weak. Adrian was probably waiting at the table. What would he say when he sees them both approaching? 

His dread keeps on increasing until he sees their table which is empty. No Adrian. 

The relief he feels is staggering. 

He quickly seats himself back at the table and his hands flutter over the cutlery. The dessert was already placed and he takes a large bite out of the soufflé. Chews and ruminates.

Harry doesn’t want to be unfaithful to Adrian. But Tom..every time he is with Tom, he loses his senses and all that is left a fiery attraction and need. The guilt is pushed down, forgotten. Something so minuscule against his desire for Tom.

When Adrian returns to the table, apologising for taking so long and citing office problems, Harry smiles at him prettily and hides the turmoil.

A familiar leg brushes against his own under the table and he almost jumps. His eyes flash to Tom’s and he just can’t help it.

His mutinous flesh caught in a trap of desires sent to test it. _[1]_

A trap that tempts.

A trap that haunts.

Slowly, hesitating, he presses back and surrenders.

** ✻●✻ **

Harry was a thrill junkie.

It had been evident when he was at the orphanage, it became a truth when he started college. 

At the orphanage, he had been more tempered. His sexuality had come as a surprise when he was fourteen, burning curiosity soon following at it’s heels. He had experimented a lot with some of the boys there and chosen one or two in school too. 

Once his curiosity had been sated in in terms of sex, it had turned to alcohol and drugs. He hadn’t liked much of the former and the latter had been hard to get addicted to when the weed sold at the dump people liked to call an orphanage had been too weak. 

First year at Slade School of Art had changed that. He had tried every psychedelic drug that he could get his hands on, the scholarship combined with his part-time job making it financially possible to go for the more expensive ones. He probably would have gone downhill if it hadn’t been for his chance encounter with Tom, who had explicitly stated he wouldn’t be with someone who was high a total of four days out of seven. 

He had insulted Tom a lot that day, called him a pussy too. After a week without him, Harry had started his outpatient rehabilitation and slowly weaned off them.For the better too, considering he still hardly remembers his first year. He had been the hardcore, artist version of _Aldous Huxley._

So, Harry was a thrill junkie. And Tom knows it too well. 

“That was why he was able to pull off the positive reinforcement,” Harry whispers to the empty air in Riddle’s room. He was lying on the silken sheets, having spread out there once he had made sure Tom was out.

For the past two weeks,Tom and Harry had been playing a game of cat and mouse. Well, more like Adrian and Tom. His fiancé was the unaware cat and Tom was the mouse that just pulled Harry along for the ride. 

Tom had conducted very selective trysts with him, now that Harry thinks about it. Always when Adrian was in the house and somewhere close enough to catch them.

The time when Harry had been about to enter the kitchen to check on Adrian’s cooking and Tom had quickly pulled him aside and started a very hot albeit short make out session against the wall. 

The time when they had been cleaning the house since Helen had taken on off. Adrian had been cleaning the second floor stairs and making his way down while Harry had been cleaning the first floor. Tom had exited his study, carried Harry to the windowsill at the end of the hall and had proceeded to dry-hump him until Adrian was almost at the first floor stairs.

There were many more encounters like this and all had the common denominator of Adrian being in the vicinity.

Harry sighs. Tom was sly. Offering the thrill of doing something naughty. Heightening it with the danger of being caught. And then every time successfully evading it as reward.

He wriggles on the sheets, loving the feel and snuggles more into it. The whole room smells of Tom and he wished he could bottle it up and keep it with him.

He puts his linked hands behind his head and closes his eyes. Maybe a little payback would be a nice surprise for Tom. 

The study on the first floor was an organised, controlled sphere. Tom’s domain. Entry forbidden even to Helen.

There was a large bookcase spanning wall-to-wall, an entire, locked rack filled with documents and the large, neoclassical desk was at the centre. 

There was a sofa off to the side, probably for napping or when Tom was too tired to even walk to his room on the ground floor. Harry walks over to the desk and shuffles the paper around, hardly looking at them and creating a bit of chaos.

Tom could use some.

“I see you have finally found the courage to come here.” 

Riddle is standing at the entryway, his hair wet and dripping from the sides. He is in an all-black ensemble. Black t-shirt. Blank track pants. 

Harry turns back around and puts his hands on the desk. “Not courage. Just boredom.”

As Tom approaches him, Harry doesn’t move. He is relaxed. Confident like he hadn’t been for a while. When he feels a lean body completely cover him, he doesn’t panic.

Upon feeling a burgeoning cock against his ass, he doesn’t run away like last time with his tail tucked between his legs. Instead he pushes his legs apart and teases Tom’s cock with a slight shake of his ass.

Encouraged, Riddle presses harder and turns Harry’s face swiftly to claim his lips in a searing, slow kiss. His large hands rove all over the smaller male, touching and kneading. Harry bites Tom’s lower lip and swipes a tongue across it, soothing the sting.

His hands move back and softly palms Tom’s cock through the sweats. It feels heavy in his hand and Harry moans loudly, more for the other male’s benefit. _(maybe)_

When he feels that Tom is suitably distracted, he fluidly reverses the position and lays a deterring hand on Tom’s chest when he moves to counteract.

Tom’s eyes are half-lidded, filled with lust but he was still in control. And Harry couldn’t have that. 

With a mischievous smirk, he slowly goes down on his knees and rubs his cheek against Tom’s groin while still maintaining eye contact. He sees the fattening of pupils, the slight wobble of Tom’s slightly thin lips and feels heady. Harry will never understand how such a position can be considered to be powerless. Harry feels everything _but_.

He licks a stripe over the wet patch forming in front of the pants and then pushes them down enough that they are snug beneath Tom’s balls. 

The cock that springs free is big, heavy and kinda pretty. Harry swipes his tongue at the head and tastes the precum leaking. Above, Tom is watching him intently, the only sign of him being affected is the twitch in his leg. 

Harry knows what a sight he makes, kneeling. His face feels hot, his lips are coated with saliva and his erection is starting to feel painful. When he presses the heel of his hand against it to relieve the pressure, Tom’s eyes spark and his mouth curves.

Harry directs his attention to the prominent vein running up the underside of Tom’s erection and starts nibbling on it and slowly making his way up. Simultaneously, he grabs and fondles those balls. When his mouth reaches the red, flared head he drops a kiss. Then another. Until he feels Tom grow frustrated and hands grab his wild hair. 

He looks up and keens. Tom looks on the edge and god, does he love the fact that he did that with just a few touches. “Darling, are you going to suck it or still too afraid? It doesn’t bite.” His voice comes out husky.

The words only serve to narrow his eyes and he smiles sharply. “Careful. I might.” And then pulls his lips over his teeth and swallows Tom’s cock. There is a jolt and Harry clamps on his hips, anchoring the pelvis so Tom is not able to thrust.

He is completely at Harry’s mercy now. 

He starts bobbing his head slowly, taking more and more of the appendage with each go. He feels it fill his mouth and simply moans at the feel. He flicks his tongue every time he reaches the head and feels his head go slightly dizzy when Tom hisses. 

He starts increasing his pace, sometimes stopping to suck at the heavyset balls and making the hands in his hair pull harder. Then he goes back to sucking, each time trying to go deeper and harder. When he feels the cock hit the back of his throat followed by the familiar roll of Tom’s hips, Harry is ready.

With saliva dribbling at the corners of his mouth, sweat rolling down his shoulder blades, he pulls _back_ right when he knows Tom is about to come. Extracts his hands and shakes his head to remove Tom’s grip on his hair. 

He stands up and steps back, wanting to take the older male in. 

Riddle doesn’t disappoint. His mouth is slightly parted and there is a hazy gleam in his eyes that is slowly receding. His pale neck is slightly red, the blush probably spanning his upper chest too. He looks messed, dirty and a step away from forcing Harry to finish sucking his cock.

Triumph seizes him at the look of Tom being desperate. _For him._

Harry feels he could get addicted to this. 

With a parting smirk, he walks out and leaves Tom with his heavy cock hanging out.

The sheer indecency of what he had done has Harry quickly climbing the stairs and going into the bathroom the moment he enters his bedroom. He doesn’t even fully take off his pants and wanks off to the explicit video he had of Tom in his phone. 

He washes everything except his mouth from the tap water.

Afterwards, he lies in the bed beside his oblivious, sleeping fiancé and doesn’t even bother with the guilt. He is too busy milking the feeling of his victory

He goes to sleep with the taste of Tom’s cock in his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Dreams of the Huntress, Robin Robertson
> 
> I know this chapter is long but I couldn't help it. I really enjoyed writing it. Sorry...unless...you guys prefer long chapter? Let me know otherwise I would change the lineup for the future chapters.
> 
> I feel like i have made harry have more moments with the wash basin than with adrian. What is up with me...
> 
> Harry is very passive in this chapter he is going where his bad decisions take him and trying harder to avoid an active role in terms of initiating thinking it will absolve some of the guilt. Which is very idiotic but you tell yourself lies to cope and in this if you are assuming the guilt is towards Adrian solely, then well…
> 
> This is my first time writing something explicit so please do tell me which scenes you liked! I am kinda really nervous about those scenes >.<
> 
> We would unpack a bit of a more backstory in terms of Harry and Tom's past relationship with a very surprising gift related to Adrian happening next chapter 😏
> 
> Kudos/comments are highly appreciated! 
> 
> I made a [Tumblr](https://circleofplanets.tumblr.com/)! Ask me anything and follow for updates!


End file.
